The convoy of luxury vehicles looked ridiculous parked in front of Gino's Trattoria. The neon sign flickered, buzzing intermittently.

Inside, the private room Kiley had booked was cramped. The tablecloths were red checkered, and the smell of garlic bread was overwhelming.

Her family was already there. Aunt Karen was wearing a dress with too many sequins, her eyes scanning Carmine like a barcode reader.

They sat down at the head of the table. The silence was thick, awkward.

Aunt Karen didn't wait for the appetizers.

"So, Kiley," she said, her voice shrill. "We hear your new husband is in... business? What exactly do you do, Carmine?"

Kiley felt her stomach knot. She gripped her fork. She didn't actually know.

Carmine poured water into Kiley's glass. He didn't look up. "Investments. Some family management."

Joyce snorted from the other end of the table. She tore a piece of bread aggressively. "Family management? What, do you mow your dad's lawn?"

A ripple of laughter went through the room. Uncle Bob chuckled into his napkin.

Kiley felt heat rush to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to defend him, but Carmine's hand found hers under the table. He squeezed. Hard.

He looked up. His eyes were cold, flat. He swept his gaze across the table, and the laughter died in throats. It was like he had sucked the air out of the room.

"Mrs. Love," Carmine said, his voice polite but edged with steel. "I heard your credit card was frozen last week due to... excessive outstanding balance?"

Joyce dropped her bread. Her face drained of color. "How... how do you know that?"

"Investments," Carmine said simply, taking a sip of his water. "You hear things. Background checks are standard procedure in my line of work."

The table went silent.

Aunt Karen, not one to be silenced, leaned forward. "Well, he's certainly handsome. Almost too handsome. You know, Kiley, people hire actors for these things nowadays. It's very trendy for desperate girls."

Kiley felt like she had been slapped. The worst part was, the thought had crossed her mind too.

Carmine didn't respond. He pulled out his phone, typed a quick message, and put it away.

"Excuse me," he said.

Three minutes later, the double doors of the restaurant swung open.

The room turned.

Two people in crisp, navy blue medical scrubs walked in. They were pushing a high-tech, reclining wheelchair.

In the chair sat Grandma Rose.

She was dressed in a soft lavender cardigan, her hair brushed and pinned back. She looked alert, better than she had in months.

Kiley shot out of her chair. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"Grandma!"

Tears sprang to her eyes. She ran to the wheelchair.

"She wanted to come," one of the nurses said softly. "Dr. Evans cleared her for two hours."

Kiley looked at the nurse's uniform. The logo embroidered on the pocket was from Saint Jude's Private Care. The most expensive medical concierge service in the state.

The room was dead silent. Joyce was staring at the nurses like they were aliens. Aunt Karen's mouth was shut tight.

You couldn't rent a medical team like this. You couldn't fake this level of care.

Carmine stood up and walked over. He took the handles of the wheelchair.

"Let's get her to the table," he said to Kiley.

He wheeled Rose to the spot next to Kiley. He adjusted the brakes, checked her comfort, and then sat down.

Rose reached out and patted Carmine's hand. "Thank you, son. The ride over was very smooth."

"It was my pleasure, Rose," Carmine said.

Kiley watched them. She looked at her grandmother's shining eyes. She looked at the stunned faces of her greedy relatives.

For the first time in her life, Kiley didn't feel small. She didn't feel like the poor relation.

She looked at Carmine. He was cutting his lasagna, completely ignoring the stares.

He had done this. He had brought the only person who mattered.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur. No one made jokes. No one asked about money. They ate quickly, heads down.

When it was time to leave, the nurses prepared Rose for transport. Kiley kissed her grandmother's cheek.

"I'm so happy for you, honey," Rose whispered.

Carmine walked Kiley to the curb. The black cars were waiting.

Joyce tried to scurry up to them, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Carmine, honey, about that investment advice-"

Carmine didn't even break stride. He opened the car door for Kiley, shielding her head. He didn't look at Joyce. He didn't acknowledge her existence.

He got in the other side and the door slammed shut.

He turned to Kiley, loosening his tie.

"Tired?" he asked. "Let's go home."

The car glided down the highway, the city lights streaking past like blurred stars. Inside, soft jazz played from the speakers-a slow, mournful saxophone that matched the exhaustion seeping into Kiley's bones.

She turned her head on the headrest to look at Carmine. His profile was sharp against the passing streetlights.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For Grandma. For everything today."

Carmine kept his eyes on the road, his hands relaxed on the leather steering wheel. "She's your family. That means she's mine now."

The words were possessive, absolute. Kiley felt a shiver that wasn't from the AC.

"The medical team..." she started, chewing on her lip. "And the private transport. How much was it? I can set up a payment plan. I can pay you back in installments."

Carmine's jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek. He hated this. He hated that she constantly tried to monetize his care, to turn their relationship into a ledger.

"No," he said, his voice clipped. "I have a friend on the board at Saint Jude's. It's... an employee discount."

Kiley's eyes widened. "An employee discount covers a private medical team?"

"He's a very good friend," Carmine lied smoothly. "And favors in the corporate world are worth more than cash. Don't worry about the bill."

Kiley watched him for a moment longer. It sounded too good to be true, but in her exhausted mind, it was the only explanation that made sense. Carmine was a man who knew people. He was a fixer. That didn't mean he was rich; it meant he was resourceful.

She leaned her head back against the seat. The hum of the engine was a lullaby. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Within minutes, her head lolled to the side, resting against the window, then slipping down toward the center console. Finally, it landed on Carmine's shoulder.

Carmine stiffened. He felt the weight of her head, the soft brush of her hair against his neck.

He exhaled slowly. He reached out and adjusted the climate control, turning the heat up two degrees. He eased his foot off the gas, letting the car slow down, prolonging the drive.

At a red light, he turned to look at her. Her lips were parted slightly, her breathing even. She looked young. Vulnerable.

He reached out, his finger hovering for a second before gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His skin grazed her cheek. She was warm.

His phone lit up in the cup holder. A message from Alfred.

Sir, the Estate is calling. They want to know if you are attending the board dinner.

Carmine picked up the phone. He typed with one thumb.

No. Do not disturb me.

The light turned green. He put the phone down and accelerated gently, careful not to wake her.

Kiley murmured something in her sleep. "Grandma..."

Carmine's chest tightened. He would burn the world down to keep that look of relief on her face he saw earlier today.

They pulled into the underground garage of a building downtown. It wasn't just any building; it was the Wilkinson Tower, the tallest residential spire in the city.

He parked in the private bay. Kiley didn't stir.

Carmine turned off the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt, then hers. She slumped forward slightly, catching herself on the belt strap.

He got out, walked around, and opened her door.

He slid his arms under her-one under her knees, one behind her back. He lifted her effortlessly.

Kiley shifted, burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent of sandalwood and rain. She let out a contented sigh.

Carmine walked toward the private elevator. The doors slid open silently.

He pressed the button marked PH.

The polished metal doors reflected them. A man in a suit holding a sleeping woman in a white dress. It looked like the end of a movie. Or the beginning.

The elevator rose, ears popping as they ascended fifty floors.

The doors opened directly into the penthouse foyer.

Alfred, his butler, was standing there, hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing his impeccable uniform.

"Good evening, Mast-"

Carmine's eyes flashed. He cut Alfred a look so sharp it could have sliced glass. He shook his head slightly, a silent command to shut up.

Alfred paused, confused for a microsecond, then saw Kiley sleeping in his arms. He bowed his head deeply.

Carmine didn't stop. He carried Kiley past the foyer, down the long hallway lined with art that cost more than her father's house, and kicked open the door to the master bedroom.

Kiley woke up because the bed was too soft.

Her mattress at home had a spring that dug into her left hip. This mattress felt like sleeping on a cloud.

She opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, blindingly bright.

She sat up, gasping. She grabbed the sheets-silk, definitely silk-and looked around.

The room was massive. Minimalist. White walls, dark wood floors, furniture that looked like art pieces.

Memory crashed into her. Carmine. The wedding. The car.

She scrambled out of bed. She was still in her dress from last night, though it was wrinkled now. Her feet sank into a plush rug as she walked to the window.

She looked down. And down.

The entire city of River City was spread out below her like a toy set. Cars were tiny dots. She was in the sky.

"You're awake."

Kiley spun around.

Carmine was leaning against the doorframe. He was holding two mugs of steaming coffee. He had discarded the suit jacket and tie; the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin.

Kiley tugged at her dress, suddenly self-conscious. "This... is this your house?"

Carmine walked over and handed her a mug. "Our house."

Kiley took the coffee. Her hands were shaking slightly. "This view... the rent must be astronomical."

Carmine took a sip of his coffee to hide the smirk threatening to form. "It's company housing."

"Company housing?" Kiley repeated, incredulous. "What kind of company gives this as housing?"

"Wilkinson Group executive package," Carmine lied. It wasn't technically a lie; he was the executive, and he owned the package. "It's a perk. They treat their senior management very well to keep us from jumping ship."

Kiley stared at him. He must be high up, she thought. Or they really value him. But corporate housing meant strings attached. It meant if he lost his job, they lost their home.

There was a knock on the open door.

Two women in grey uniforms walked in, carrying stacks of towels and a garment bag. Behind them, Alfred appeared.

"Madam," Alfred said, bowing slightly. "Fresh linens and toiletries."

Kiley took a step back, nearly spilling her coffee. "Is this... a company perk too?"

"Housekeeping is included in the lease," Carmine said, his face impassive. "It's a standard service package for this building. Don't overthink it."

The staff placed the items on the bench at the foot of the bed and filed out silently. Kiley looked at the bottles of shampoo-brands she recognized from magazines, costing fifty dollars a bottle.

She looked at Carmine. He was watching her over the rim of his mug, his eyes dark and intense.

He took a step toward her. The air suddenly felt thin.

"Since you're awake," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "go take a shower."

Kiley's heart hammered against her ribs.

Shower.

Her mind raced. He paid for the wedding. He paid for Grandma. He brought me to this luxury apartment.

There was no such thing as a free lunch. She knew how the world worked. Men like Javon expected things. Men like Carmine... surely expected more.

Her face drained of color.

"We..." She swallowed hard. "Are we supposed to... fulfill the duties?"

Carmine frowned, confused for a second. Then he saw the fear in her eyes. The resignation. She thought he was calling in a debt.

A dark, twisted urge curled in his gut. He wanted her. Desperately. But not like this. Not as payment.

But he couldn't let her know who he really was. Not yet.

He stepped closer, invading her personal space. He smelled of coffee and danger.

"You are my wife," he whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed her ear. "What do you think?"

Kiley gripped her mug so hard her knuckles turned white. She thought of the nursing home bill. She thought of the safety he provided.

She nodded, a jerky motion. "Okay. I'll... I'll go shower."

She turned and marched toward the bathroom like a soldier going to the gallows.

Carmine watched her go. He saw the stiffness in her shoulders.

When the bathroom door clicked shut, he let out a ragged breath. He loosened another button on his shirt.

He heard the water turn on.

He walked to the window and stared out at the city he owned, feeling like the poorest man on earth.